Freedom Of Choice
by Gary Merchant
Summary: An alternate take on An Unearthly Child.


FREEDOM OF CHOICE

It was late. Impatient feet paced the floor of the TARDIS, waiting for the arrival of the latecomer. It had become a regular occurrence, coming home after the agreed time. But this occasional bending of the rules had to be allowed for – the need for freedom was understood. They had, after all, elected to stay in this time period for some months. The ship had been in need of repair, and so the opportunity to explore some of the culture of this world had presented itself. But the longer they remained, the greater the risk of discovery.

A scuffle from outside the ship could be heard. What was going on out there?

"Keep the doors closed," called a voice from outside. Before the controls could be reached, the doors to the TARDIS flew open, as two figures forced their way in, followed by a third. The young man and woman froze, taking in their immediate surroundings, allowing the third, older person to walk past them and join his companion.

She closed the doors behind them, and looked up at him, accusingly, clearly angry at this invasion of their privacy. "What's the meaning of this, grandfather? Who are these people?"

"They're my friends." He smiled apologetically at Susan. "The teachers I told you about. They must have followed me from the school."

"Oh, that infernal school!" She glared at him. "I knew it was a mistake, letting you apply for the post of caretaker. It could only result in trouble for us both."

"And you really live here, Doctor?" The question came from one of the newcomers. "From the outside, it's still a Police Box. But in here…"

"And what's wrong with it?" It was as if Susan dared the man to make any criticism.

He scratched his head. "Well, it's impossible. A room this size inside something so small."

"But you've discovered television, haven't you?" Susan was infuriated, but at the same time amused at their predicament. "You can see a large building inside a small screen, so what seemed impossible is now possible." She could see the confusion in the man's eyes. "No, it still doesn't make sense to you. But then, I knew it wouldn't."

The woman spoke up for the first time. "You're treating us like children."

"You think so?" Susan tapped her chin absent-mindedly. "The children of our world would be insulted at that, and rightly so." She turned to her grandfather. "You know that we can't allow them to leave. They have seen too much."

"Oh, no. No, you can't, Susan." He was insistent. "I'll speak to them. They won't say anything, I promise you."

But she shook her head. "And I thought you knew better than that. Isn't age supposed to bring wisdom?" Susan moderated her sharp tone, not wanting to alienate her grandfather. But she had to make him understand. "If we let them go, they will talk about what they've seen. Perhaps no one will believe them at first, but seeds of doubt will be sown. And if they bring the police here, then we shall have to leave."

"No, Susan." The force of his refusal to accept this made Susan pause. "I have made a life here," he went on. "For the first time since we left home, I have at last found somewhere to belong. I'm accepted here, treated as an equal. And I have no desire to give that up. Not for you, or anyone."

She tried to make him see sense. "Grandfather, you're just being childish."

"And what's the point in growing up if you can't be childish, hmm?" He crossed to the schoolteachers. "These are my friends, and I will not have you treat them as dust beneath your feet. If you force me to choose, child, then I shall remain here on Earth."

Susan turned her attention to the schoolteachers. "This is your fault. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be acting like this."

"What's the matter? Afraid you'll lose your hold over him?" the man retorted. "He's told us a lot about you, about how you belittle him over the slightest thing – oh, he's never said so directly, but the occasional snippets of information have added up to paint quite a bleak picture." He laid a protective hand on the old man's shoulder. "And it sounds to me as though you've just overreached yourself."

"Ian's right," the woman said. "We may not understand all of this – the different dimensions from inside and outside this place – but we can see how your grandfather values his independence. And now you want to take that away from him. Well, we won't allow it."

Susan stared from one to the other. "You don't understand," she ranted. "He can't stay here. Neither of us can. Not now you've seen the ship."

"But that doesn't matter, my dear. Not in the greater scheme of things." Her grandfather spoke with a gentle firmness. "In the final analysis, it boils down to a basic freedom of choice. And you, Susan, with your mistaken ideals, want to take that basic right away from me."

Susan couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You've never talked like this before."

"Perhaps because I've never had the courage to do so before." He smiled. "I still remember when you brought me aboard the TARDIS for the first time. In your own way, you probably thought you were protecting me, when in fact you've been smothering me. It's as though I've been kept wrapped in cotton wool, and only in these last few months on Earth have I had the strength of character to be of my own mind once more."

He turned to his friends. "And I must thank you, Ian and Barbara, for helping me to see my grand-daughter in her true colours for the first time." He looked at her. "You've become quite bitter, haven't you, my dear? Or perhaps it was it always so, and I never really saw the truth until now."

Susan was desperate. "Y-you won't last five minutes out there, grandfather. You need me to take care of you."

"I don't think so." The old man stood straight and proud, no longer the subservient assistant to his granddaughter. Without another word, he crossed to the hexagonal control console and flipped the switch to open the doors. Then he joined his friends, leading them out of the TARDIS. Susan stood watching them, unable to speak or move.

Her grandfather turned back briefly. "I've made my choice, Susan. Now it's your turn. You can either stay here, or leave. I leave the decision in your hands."

The doors closed, and Susan was left alone inside the ship. How dare he. How dare he make such a presumption. Freedom of choice indeed! These earthly concepts were alien to her, and meant nothing. But as she moved to the console, her hands reaching for the dematerialisation controls, she hesitated.

She had thought herself to be strong willed, but Susan was uncertain over her correct course of action. Her grandfather's act of leaving meant that she was free. Free to travel through time and space without the need to look out for anyone else. It was what she'd wanted for such a long time. So, why the hesitation?

In that moment, Susan realised she was trapped. In the Capitol she had distanced herself from the rest of her peers, preferring her own company. Never the most sociable type, her grandfather had been the only one of her family she ever talked to, and that was more out of a sense of duty than anything else. When the troubles began, she had been prepared, heading for the docking bay with her grandfather in tow, a TARDIS key in her hand. Even then, she had determined that she would one day leave him on some distant planet, and continue on her own way.

But now that choice had been taken from her. If she left now, she would be committing herself to a lifetime of loneliness, and realised that she needed her grandfather more than she had ever dared to admit. Susan needed his warmth and companionship to counter her own sense of isolation and bitterness. But she had finally pushed him too far. And now, he didn't need her.

She slammed her fist against the console in frustration. "Damn them," she cursed. "Damn them all!"


End file.
